CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Summary: Finding herself one thousand years back in the past and in the legendary Kingdom of Camelot was something Hermione had never seen coming. But with no possible way back to the future and being stuck in the past, Hermione had no option but to form a new life for herself, and hopefully without changing the timeline. Unfortunately, matters of the heart cannot be controlled and she finds herself entwined in the lives of Prince Arthur and the great and powerful sorcerer, Merlin. Hermione x Arthur pairing.
Disclaimer: I do not own canon events and characters, they belong to J.K Rowling and the creators of Merlin, and the BBC. I am not making a profit from writing and posting this fanfic. I'm also making some big changes to the Merlin plotline so don't be surprised that nothing matches with canon. If I'm being honest, it's been years since I last saw the series, so I'm mostly going off what I remember and episode reviews and notes. And I've decided Arthur won't be dying.
Q&A
CallaRose4ever - Uther hates magic as he blames it for the death of his wife. If I remember correctly, he asked Nimeuh for help as he and his wife were having trouble conceiving, and she performed a ritual (similar to the one Merlin carried out to save Arthur's life in previous chapters) and once Arthur was born, his mother died as payment. That's why Uther outlawed magic.
Riversidegirl75 – Yes, we'll be seeing Hermione's feelings regarding Arthur soon, as for the whole timeline manipulation thing, I've already got it figured it out.
Page count: 11
The moment the large doors closed and Hermione and Merlin could no longer be seen or heard, Arthur stood from his throne and descended the steps of the platform until he stood before his father.
"She is unlike any other I have met," the King commented and Arthur nodded in agreement.
"Yes, she is. I have always believed she was of nobility but I had never thought of her being royalty," he said, surprisingly feeling a little upset.
Why hadn't she told him? He was a Prince, of royal blood, too. Why had she seen it fit to keep such a secret from him? Why had she lived in a village with such few resources when all she had to do was travel to a city and explain her circumstances? Then she would've never wanted for food or water, or clothing and shelter. She would've been well looked after and safe. Why hadn't she trusted him?
"You wish to marry her." It was a statement of fact, not a question.
"She is everything I believe Camelot needs. She is kind, well educated and she cares deeply. I have seen her risk her life to save that of two children with no concern of what may come of her. If I had not arrived in Ealdor when I did, she would've been executed for protecting the villagers. I know she will love the people of Camelot and she will do everything in her power to protect the city and its citizens, and she will do everything she can to ensure they have better, plentiful lives. I know she will one day be a Queen that is loved by the people."
"And by you?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. Arthur's hand came up to the hilt of his sword and his finger tapped nervously. His father gave him an amused glance. "I have seen the way you look at her, Arthur. I have seen how you care for her. And though I do not believe you love her at this moment in time, I believe that with her now being a guest in the castle, it shan't be long before you find yourself in love with her."
"I have always known it was expected of me to marry for alliances and prosperity, to better Camelot."
"But if you love the girl, it will make your life and duty to the throne simpler and happier," he said knowingly, his eyes glazing over slightly before he shook his head. "Do you wish to marry her, Arthur? Do you wish for her to be your wife and Queen?"
Arthur took a moment to gather his thoughts before answering, "Yes," he breathed out. "That is what I wish."
His father leaned back in his throne, his elbows resting on the armrests and his hands clasped together.
"I never thought I'd see the day you willingly accepted a marriage offer," he commented.
"She did not come to me, Father. I chose her. My wishing to marry her is unknown to her, she has no idea that I wish for her to be my wife. She has done nothing to try and impress me, she has offered nothing in return for an accepted marriage proposal, she has done nothing to gain my attention or affections. She does not flutter her eyes or use pretty words and compliments, she does not dress to impress me but for her own comfort. She treats me as she does everyone else, without difference. She offered me kind words and advice when I needed it the most. And that is why I believe she will be the Queen Camelot needs, the woman that I need by my side. I had thought it was a coincidence that we met, but now, I believe it was meant to be. I believe she is destined to be Queen."
"Yes, I admit, it is rather peculiar that you happened to meet a Princess in a poor village, and one with such tragic circumstances."
"Does that mean I have your permission, Father?" Arthur asked, suddenly feeling nervous.
The King ran the tip of his index finger over his lip thoughtfully. "Arthur, she is a Princess, as such with a marriage between you will bring an alliance. Before I am able to give my permission, I must speak with the man that must approve of the possible union. With the passing of her mother and father, that responsibility lies with her Grandfather, King Godric Gryffindor of Hogwarts."
Arthur had known his father would say that so he wasn't quite certain why he felt disappointed.
"I will send a small group of riders with a missive to King Godric."
"Father, we do not know where it is, it's not on any of our maps and it's a three month's journey."
"The riders will travel south until they either find it or someone that knows where to find it. It will take three months to arrive and three months to return, do you believe you can wait six months, Arthur?"
Arthur frowned. Six months?
"It seems I have no choice, Father," he replied. "She is unsure of how long she will be staying in Camelot, what if she wishes to leave before the riders return?"
"Arthur, she is a Princess, this must be done. Take the time given to ensure she does not wish to leave. If she is to be your wife, I suggest that you use this time wisely. If a missive returns with acceptance of our proposal and she loves you, she will not wish to leave Camelot and I believe she will have no objections to the thought of a union between you."
"Yes, Father," he nodded.
"But Arthur, make no mistake, if a missive does return and King Godric denies that she is his Granddaughter and she is found to be a lair, she will be executed. She may have the sword, but it could have been stolen. She may have a letter, but that could have been forged. During her time in Camelot she will be treated as royalty and she will have our protection, unless proven otherwise. I only say this as I wish for you to be cautious with your heart."
"I understand, Father," Arthur replied, tipping his head and bowing slightly before turning on his heel and heading towards the doors, knowing he'd been dismissed.
When the guards opened the doors, he stepped into the corridor and once he'd rounded the corner and was free from being seen, he came to a stop and leaned against the stone wall, pulling his crown from his head and brushing his hand through his hair.
"Six months," Arthur said to himself.
He had six months to convince the pretty Princess to either stay in Camelot long enough to consider the idea of marriage to him, or to get her to fall in love with him. Arthur had a feeling it would be a lot more difficult as Hermione didn't seem the type to fall for charming smiles and expensive gifts.
He had a mission. To prove to the young woman he was worthy of her love. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, especially when he remembered Gwen's words about him being ignorant, rude and selfish. Of how she'd scolded him for his behaviour when she'd allowed him to stay at her home when he'd been hiding out during the tournament. Given how selfless and kind Hermione was, he knew he had to do everything within his power to change that, as he was sure Hermione would never wish to marry a man with such qualities.
Pushing away from the wall and standing tall, he made his way down the corridor. He would visit the training grounds for a while and then prepare himself for seeing Princess Hermione later that night.
~000~000~000~
"Merlin, why are so quiet? It is unlike you," Hermione said, looking to her left where Merlin was silently walking beside her and he had been for several minutes whilst he led the way to her new accommodations.
Merlin stole a glance and then faced forward, looking unsure of how to reply.
"Merlin, I am still the same person. Does my status change my personality, my wishes to help others or our past interactions? I had tried my best to put it behind me but it seems I shall never be able to escape my past. I may be Princess Hermione, but to you, I will always be just Hermione, your friend." He looked to her in surprise and she snorted at him, his eyes widening further at the unladylike action. "Yes, Merlin, we're friends. I had thought I'd made that obvious, do you think I go about revealing secrets to just anyone, of course not," she shook her head. "I understand this may be a lot for you to digest, but it does not change anything between us. My promise still stands, if you need me I will help in any way I can."
Merlin came to a sudden stop before a large door and he reached out, turned the handle and pushed the door open, allowing Hermione to step inside first and he followed after her.
Her eyes darted about her new rooms, seeing they were very similar to how she remembered Arthur's being. A large four-poster bed with red curtains drawn open and tied to the posts sat against the back wall and dominating the room, there was a large fireplace and large arched windows, a large writing desk and chair, a dinner table and two chairs and a cabinet and trunk. An archway separated the room into two and on the other side, she could see two cabinet-wardrobes, a chest of drawers, a large free-standing mirror and what looked to be a vanity table and chair. Torches lined the walls and candles were littering the surfaces of the tables. She'd have to do a bit of rearranging she realised, maybe use some of the many cabinets as a place to store her books and ingredients.
She approached the bed, placed the pillowcase, scroll and sword on the throw cover and then she turned to face Merlin, seeing him watching for her reaction as he stood by the door.
"Close the door, please, Merlin," she said.
He looked a little confused but he did close the door and Hermione raised her hand and waved it in a partial 'S' motion before dropping it and clasping her hands together in front of her body.
"What was that?" He asked curiously.
Hermione smiled at him. "It was a bit of magic that will prevent anyone that should walk by these chambers from hearing anything that may happen or be discussed," she answered.
It wasn't often she had free time between her duties when in the village but Hermione had always made sure to make some for practising non-verbal and wandless magic. Without her wand, she was unable to cast magic and that would result in a magic build-up, which wouldn't be good for anyone in her vicinity. She didn't want to be useless or defenceless, and though she was making slow process, she was able to cast a small number of spells and charms without the need for her wand though it had taken her almost a year to do so.
"That's brilliant, I've never heard of such magic," he responded excitedly.
"I learned it in school," she smiled.
She lifted her hand and gave it a wave and two chairs were suddenly summoned away from the vanity table and writing desk and towards her. He blinked in surprise before a laugh left him and Hermione took one chair and gestured for him to take the one opposite her.
"I had no intentions of anyone discovering my identity, Merlin. I was safer without people knowing and although the war in my Kingdom is over, there is still a risk there are people out there that may wish to harm me if they learn that I'm still alive. That is why I kept my identity a secret. For my safety as well as the safety of any who may be close to me."
"Did William know?"
Hermione took a deep breath at the mention of her friend. It had been months since his death but it still hurt and she still missed him.
"He didn't know of my being a Princess, but he did know I have magic," she replied and he blinked before shaking his head and chuckling.
"Of course, he did," he responded fondly.
"Do you wish to know why I came to Camelot? Why I left the safety of Ealdor?"
"I think I might know," he said, his mouth tugging into a smile as if he knew something she didn't. "But tell me anyway."
"I have done everything that I can for Ealdor and they no longer need me, and I do wish to continue to help those that need it and I'm sure there are plenty in Camelot that would benefit from my help and services, but I didn't just come here for them."
"You came for Arthur," he said amused.
She blinked in surprise. "Well, somewhat yes, but I also came for you."
"Me?"
"You, Merlin. You're incredibly powerful and you are capable of so much, but you need training to be able to do so. I came to help you, to train you the best I can, though you must remember that we practice different forms of magic. You are accustomed to the magic of the Old Religion, I practice a new form of magic and they are vastly different but I will do what I can for you."
"If King Uther were to see us..."
"He won't, Merlin," she promised. "I have ways to teach you privately and safely. King Uther will never know of either of us, I promise. We may train wherever you would feel more comfortable, in the woods, in the dungeons, in here, wherever you prefer."
"Thank you, Your Highness," he replied.
She rolled her eyes. "Merlin, to you I am Hermione and nothing else. I do not wish for you to treat me any differently than you have in the past. I am your friend, not your superior and I would never dream of treating you or anyone else as such."
His mouth twitched knowingly but he otherwise didn't comment.
"You mentioned a magic bag... Can I see it?" He asked.
Hermione smiled and nodded. "Close your eyes, when I heard the bandits I hid it down my shirt where I knew they wouldn't find it."
His cheeks flamed red but he did close his eyes, covered them with his hands and turned his head to the side, too, much to her amusement. She quickly pulled the little bag free and then gave Merlin permission to open his eyes, seeing the way they widened in surprise. She knew he'd never seen such an item before, the colours, fabric and stitching was something he wouldn't be accustomed to but thankfully it was easy to conceal and it didn't stick out so much that it drew attention.
A startled laugh fell from the sorcerer when she opened the bag and stuck her hand inside, her arm disappearing right up to her elbow and with the contents of the bag rattling and banging about inside.
"This bag contains everything I hold of value. My texts and tomes, my ingredients and my gold," she explained, drawing back with an ingredients jar in her hand that was far too big to fit inside the bag and yet it did.
"Is it true what you told King Uther?"
"No," she smiled and he laughed at her. "This wasn't gifted by a sorceress, rather, I enchanted it myself. I wasn't going to admit that to the King though, I am quite fond of my life and do not wish to lose it."
"Merlin! Where are you!"
They both looked towards the door and Hermione chuckled. "Sound is prevented from leaving but not from entering," she explained after seeing his confused expression. "It seems the Prince is in need of you. If you would give me a few days to get settled and learn the layout of the castle, then we will begin your training soon after."
"That's great, thank you, Hermione," he beamed.
"You are very welcome, Merlin. After all, if I can't help a fellow magical practitioner in need, then what good is my magic?" She smiled.
"Merlin!"
The sorcerer sighed and Hermione laughed lightly as he stood from the chair and crossed to the door.
"I will see you later in the evening," he said.
She sighed in annoyance. "Please don't remind me of what is to come, Merlin," she grumbled and he raised an amused eyebrow. "Feasts, parties and balls are something I wouldn't mind living without."
"You truly aren't like other Princesses," he commented.
"I like to defy the expectations of others. I also hate wearing dresses."
He chuckled. "The royal seamstress will love you," he said jokingly.
"I imagine so," she laughed. "Have a wonderful day, Merlin, think of me whilst I'm trapped here for God knows how long whilst I listen to a woman prattle on about colours, fabrics and patterns. I would much rather face William's dreadful singing."
His mouth pulled into a smile at the mention of his best friend, obviously knowing how truly awful William's singing voice had been. Hermione wouldn't wish such a punishment even on Voldemort.
"My thoughts and prays are with you," he teased.
"I shall need them," she nodded.
He chuckled before pulling the door open and as he did so, it revealed an older woman stood on the other side with her hand poised mid-air as if she were about to knock. Merlin shot her an amused look over his shoulder before leaving the room and going in search of Prince Arthur.
"Princess Hermione," the woman greeted. "I am Hilda, may I enter?"
The woman looked to be in her mid-thirties with dark hair braided intricately and bright green eyes, reminding her of Harry. Her skin was tanned and she had a large nose with a mole close to her lip. It was clear her clothing was of a quality that was better than villagers would wear, but not to the standard of nobility.
"Of course, Hilda, am I to assume you are the one I must speak with regarding clothing?"
"Yes, Your Highness," she responded, stepping in and curtseying.
"Please, Hilda, my name is Hermione, there is no need for such formalities," Hermione said.
The older woman tipped her head. "This is Marcella," she introduced a younger woman.
Hermione would say she was in her mid-twenties and she had dark blonde hair, dark green eyes and was quite a bit taller than Hilda. Her skin was pale and ears a little too big for her head and her clothing looked to be of a quality lesser than Hilda's but better than a villager's.
"Pleasure to meet you, Marcella," Hermione smiled.
"Your Highness," she curtsied clumsily and Hermione's mouth tugged up at the corners.
"As I said to Hilda, there is no need for such formalities. I have not been addressed so in many years. If you would like to set up in the other room, I shall be through in a moment, I'm just waiting for one more and then we may begin."
"Yes, Your Highness," Hilda replied, gesturing for Marcella to the push the cart containing fabric and colour swatches to the other room. Hermione held in her sigh, knowing the women would only address her as such no matter how many times she asked otherwise.
Once they were gone, Hermione returned one chair to the writing desk and made to return the other chair to the vanity table, when a young woman appeared in her doorway.
Hermione observed her carefully, seeing her shoulders hunched and her nervous form. She wore a clean but tatty looking dress, her mousy blonde hair was tied into a knot at the back of her neck, a smattering of freckles rested on her pale cheeks and her hands were clasped nervously. She was only young, Hermione realised. In fact, she looked younger than her, maybe sixteen or seventeen and her eyes were cast down to the ground.
"Please come in," Hermione spoke. The young girl shuffled inside and curtseyed, her eyes remaining downcast. "What is your name?"
"My name is Ginevra, Your Highness," the young girl said shyly.
Of course, it was, Hermione thought.
"Ginevra, please look at me," Hermione said and she slowly raised her eyes. "That's much better," Hermione smiled. "You have such lovely eyes and it would be a shame to not see them," she said and she meant it; the young girl's eyes were a dark blue with flecks of green and she blushed at her words. "You know, I once had a good friend called Ginevra," Hermione spoke softly before giving her head a shake. "Anyway, am I to assume you are to be my handmaiden?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Ginevra, my name is Hermione and I would very much like it if you would refer to me as such, there is no need for you to address me with such formality. Now, I would later like to discuss with you what I do and don't expect of you, but for the moment, would mind please fetching some tea for the four of us."
"Four?" She questioned shyly.
"Of course," she smiled. "I need an impartial and unbiased opinion regarding my soon to be wardrobe. And a selection of cakes and treats would be wonderful if you're able to find some."
"Yes, Your Highness," she curtseyed.
"Hermione," she corrected.
"Hermione," she mumbled, her cheeks flaming red.
"Wonderful, when you return please knock and then enter. We shall be waiting for you."
The young girl curtseyed once more before backing out of the room and closing the door behind her. Hermione sighed. She had her work cut out for her with that one; she was very much like Neville had been in first year.
Giving her head a shake, Hermione picked up the chair and crossed through to the other room, placing it in the centre and taking a seat, waiting for Hilda and Marcella to notice her presence and once they did they both startled and quickly turned to face her, apologising for keeping her waiting.
"It's not a problem, ladies," Hermione interrupted. "I have often found myself so engrossed in a task that I have been unaware of the happenings around me for hours at a time. Shall we begin?"
"Of course, first of all, I have been informed that you require a gown for a feast this evening. It will be difficult to have one made at such short notice and to the quality that is expected..."
"Hilda," Hermione interrupted, "There is no need for you to worry yourself. I have a dress that is suitable for the feast this evening."
She blinked in surprise. "Oh, then let's make a start on designing your other dresses. We shall need to discuss what fabrics, patterns, styles and colours you prefer."
Hermione smiled politely. She hated shopping and this was even worse. When shopping with Ginny, it was easy enough to sneak out of the shop and hide out in another, but now she was trapped. She hoped to God, it didn't take too long. She'd like to have the chance to explore the castle and grounds before she was expected to ready for the feast. A bit of fresh air would do her some good.
"I have no specific requests regarding colours, I believe a variety would give me options to choose from, though I admit I am quite partial to red and gold and shades of purples and blues."
"Red and gold?" Hilda questioned, sharing a glance with Marcella.
"Yes, they are the colours of my family, and we bear a lion on our crest. Fabrics, a variety would be appreciated also. Light fabrics for the summer and heavier, warmer fabrics for the winter. I also require a cloak, and or, travelling cloak as my previous ones were damaged and burned. As for the style of dresses, I would like something that is not too restricting and that allows for easy movement. I am a trained physician and I spend a lot of my time healing the injured and mixing remedies, so anything with long sleeves or trains should be avoided. In fact, a few dresses that are suitable for my duties would be appreciated, maybe with darker colours as I tend to get covered in blood quite a lot. I don't mind off the shoulder styles, but I also don't wish to show off my figure too much. I am not here to impress anyone and I wish to dress for comfort and to my own tastes, no one else's. Is that everything?"
The two women blinked slowly, looked to one another and then back to her, nodding as one.
"Excellent, Ginevra shall be back with tea and then we may begin." Just as she said this, there was a knock on the door and then it opened, Ginevra stepping inside with her arms laden by a large tray filled with tea and a selection of cakes.
Seeing that the young girl was struggling with the weight, Hermione stood from her chair with the intentions of helping her but before she could, Hilda had nudged Marcella forward and the blonde had rushed to help Ginevra. Hermione sighed, knowing this was how her life was going to be from now on.
The door was closed and the two women placed the items down on the vanity table before Hermione was offered tea by a trembling hand. She definitely had her work cut out for her.
"Thank you, Ginevra, please bring the chair from the writing desk and take a seat."
The young girl was quick to do as told and she sat beside Hermione though with more of a distance between them than was necessary.
"Before we begin, I would like for a selection of dresses to be made for Ginevra, something that is both comfortable and suitable for her duties."
"Your Highness..."
"Hermione," she corrected. "And I will hear nothing of it, Ginevra. You are now under my care and as such, I will ensure you are correctly clothed and cared for. Your current clothing appears to be one wash away from falling to pieces and is far too small for you. You shall also need a dress that is suitable for the feast tonight, as my handmaiden I expect you to be present. Cost is not an issue; I shall take care of it."
"Yes, Your Highness," she mumbled, her face redder than she'd seen it and her hands clasped nervously in her lap.
God, give her strength!
Hermione had the sinking suspicion that Ginevra wouldn't last long with her no matter how nice and patient Hermione was. There was only so much timidity she'd be able to take before she lost her temper and the young girl burst into tears, and she looked as though she were close to doing so right now.
"Let's focus on Ginevra's dress for the feast first."
~000~000~000~
Hermione was bored. She was bored out of her mind. In fact, she was eyeing the needle and thread that sat on the cart and very much contemplating stabbing herself until she bled just to give her something to do.
Two hours had passed and although they'd agreed on a design for Ginevra's dress for the feast as well as several for everyday wear, they'd moved onto her and they'd been discussing the benefits of one colour and design over another for the last hour, the two women parrying back and forth whilst Ginevra sat beside her quietly and barely looking up from the ground and Hermione did her best to not slouch in her chair or fall asleep.
When there was a scratching against the door, Hermione thanked the Heavens for the distraction and made to stand to open it knowing it would be Akela, only Ginevra had scurried from her seat and beat her to it.
The moment the door opened and Akela stepped inside, searching his new surroundings cautiously before sniffing at the air, searching for her scent and he followed it to her into the next room, all the while, Ginevra had let out a shrill shriek and was cowering against the door. Hermione barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Once the wolf entered the room, the two women stopped in their arguing and scurried back against the wall, their fear clear but thankfully they weren't making any noise.
Hermione let out a sigh when Akela sidled up beside her, sitting down and dropping his head in her lap, an indication that he wanted a head scratch from her. When she ran her hand through his soft fur, his eyes darted up towards her, giving her a look that all but said he was both annoyed and amused with their reactions to him, as was Hermione.
"Oh, for the love of God!" Hermione snapped, unable to keep her calm as Ginevra was now a whimpering mess. Neville had never been that bad! "Ginevra, he is not going to harm you. Do you really believe a wild wolf would be loose in the castle without anyone knowing? Were you not told I had a pet wolf?"
"Yes, Your Highness," she cried, trembled.
"Then please, stop with the tears. He is harmless unless he believes I am under threat," she sighed before she looked down at the wolf. "Akela, would you please make yourself comfortable either by the fireplace or the bed, the choice is yours. I believe the ladies will be unable to focus with you in the room and we have quite a lot to get through."
Silently, the wolf stood and padded back through to the other room, Hermione glancing over her shoulder to see the large wolf curling up in a ball on the floor against the fireplace. Knowing it was most likely where he'd sleep, she made a quick note to find an old throw cover or blanket that he may sleep on.
"Ginevra, take a seat, Hilda, Marcella, let's continue. I confess, I am not like most Princesses and this is not something I very much enjoy, and I have a lot to get through this evening."
If she didn't kill herself of boredom first, that is.
